


With Out You I Can't Breathe (Part 2 - Hives and Queens)

by cloudlake



Series: Recalibration [5]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Gen, Jupiter Ascending Fic Challenge, father/daughter bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudlake/pseuds/cloudlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of when Trouble Finds You) When Stinger looses his memory, how will he and Bridget cope? Who did this to him and what are they planning? Conclusion of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long to finish! (I reposted the date so it shows up as a whole in the tumblr feed.) Originally posted in 10/2015.

## KIZA’S BIRTHDAY

 

 

 

Bridget works every spare second she has to finish the honeycomb throw in time for Kiza and sneaks in just under the wire. 

 

Talking Stinger into helping arrange the party is the tough part. He and Kiza have never been into tersie festivities. But what father can resist a celebration of his beloved daughter?

 

Opting to keep it a simple affair, they invite Tsing (who was unable to make it), Gage and family, and Jupiter and Caine. 

 

As Stinger and Bridget put up decorations, the bees are unsure what to think of the strange paper streamers in the house. All very curious and excited, massive amounts of them are buzzing about and tasting the pretty colored papers. A few leaf cutter bees even take samples. Stinger huffs and collects representatives of each hive to have a chat with them about keeping it toned down for the party. The bees may play with the ornaments afterward. If they promise to behave, he’ll leave a bit of ice cream outside for them too. And Bridget volunteers to make a few streamer paper flowers for them to have outdoors. Putting a hand on her shoulder he grumbles before grabbing a balloon to blow up,  “You spoil them.”

 

“All work and no play you know…” she compares the bees to kids,  “But I do have to ask, who was it that volunteered to give them ice cream?”

 

Mid balloon inflation, he pinches the end closed and counters,  “Who’s part bee, here?”

 

Seeing her stick her tongue out in his direction, he lets the balloon go and she ducks. The loud puttering noise scares the bees and many hide while a few go on the offensive and that balloon will never hold air again. He shushes the would be attackers, scoops up the dying who attacked - giving them a little regenex for healing (now that he has plenty again), then sends them all outside with a warning there may be other loud noises. The bees have met all the visitors that are coming so there’s no need to be such nosey little things.

 

“It always amazes me how such a gruff old soldier can care so much for his bees,” she remarks fondly.

 

“They’re kin,” He shrugs it off as if that explains it all. Bridget’s become fond of the bees and they seem to accept her, but she doesn’t understand them like Stinger.

 

…

 

After Bridget’s help getting ready for the party, Kiza makes her entrance a bit shyly down the staircase. She’s wearing a pastel sundress, a lace shawl just covering her shoulders and her hair up - cascading curls framing her face with little blue and yellow flowers interwoven in it. The combo really shows off her light skin, elegant neckline, and perfect features. Gage gapes, Caine and Gage’s dad whistle, and Stinger swallows - still wondering when his baby girl turned into such a beautiful woman.

 

Sitting between Gage and Stinger, she takes her fiance’s offered hand and nudges her dad affectionately. 

 

Jupiter is given photographer duties and Bridget brings out the gifts. Dismissing Kiza’s,  “You shouldn’t have,”  Briget places a gift in front of her. It’s from Stinger. When she opens it and finds a deed emblazoned with a little crowned bee on it, she looks to him a rather puzzled.

 

“It was your mother’s. She said to give it to you when you came into your own,” he explains.  “I’ll tell you more about the chateau on Orus later.”

 

Running her fingers over the delicate design, she closes her eyes and thinks of her splicer that she’s not seen in over 30 years. Then she kisses his cheek.  “Thanks Da.”

 

Gage’s present is next. As she opens it, he comments,  “Your father told me about your custom for the man to give a representation of his family and his heart.” Her eyes sparkle and she wonders if her father told Gage the whole meaning behind it. He helps her put on the gold necklace with a bee on a hazel leaf.  “It represents us - my family and yours together.” 

 

“Nice touch,”  Stinger gives his approval and winks to Bridget who’s wearing the bee necklace from him. He doesn’t remember giving it to her since it happened before the memory wipe, but likes to see her wearing it none the less.

 

Gage’s parents give her depression glass pieces in her favorite pattern from his mom’s own collection. From Jupiter and Caine she receives the concealable off world Roulan Z238 pistol with shoulder holster. Gleefully, she disassembles and reassembles it expertly right there in front of everyone and Gage is speechless with admiration. He knows she is familiar with firearms, but his level of respect for his fiance just went up several notches. And besides - the gun’s ammo glows. 

 

She mentions to Stinger,  “Mum wouldn’t have approved of me learning to shoot, would she?”

 

Sticking out his bottom lip a bit, he shakes his head. “ Why do ye think I taught ye? Knew ye’d be a natural.”

 

Playfully she shoves him, “Da… ”

 

Finally, Bridget sets the completed honeycomb and bee afghan in her lap tied with a ribbon.  “For welcoming me so warmly into this house.”

 

Kiza undoes the bundle and nuzzles the blanket that has so much love and work put into it, then hugs Bridget. “ You’re the sister I always wished I had.”

 

Next Bridget brings in the cake and everyone but Caine and Stinger (who don’t know the song) sing Happy Birthday. Jupiter tells Kiza to make a wish.

 

“I wish Mum could be here too,” she whispers - not knowing that the wish should be kept secret.

  
Sighing, Stinger puts a hand on her shoulder. 


	2. THE THORNTONS

“Should we let the guys get to know each other?” Bridget’s mother, Shar suggests. As Stinger evaluates the pair of them, Bridget seems the spitting image of her mother, minus the vivid red hair. They even match in style with a mid thigh dress and leggings.

 

Leaving them together seems like the worst idea possible, to Stinger. He’s already gathered what he needs to know about Bridget’s dad. Quiet, protective type. Not a soldier, but personality wise much like himself. Quick description to search public records: 5’ 11”, middle age - probably mid fifties, starting to get a paunch from how Bridget says her mom cooks, balding slightly but still has little grey in his sandy brown hair, wears thin rimmed spectacles, hazel eyes.

 

Shifting uncomfortably in the stiff backed chair, Stinger gazes over the middle class ranch house living room in tan and light blues. Nothing out of place, unlike his house. Not rich, but definitely a taste for nicer things. Much better condition vehicles than he had. Thankfully this commission with Her Majesty included a bonus so he could afford a better truck, that way he wasn’t embarrassed to drive Bridget here. Pretty stark contrast to his humble accommodations where he and Kiza eked their way out on this backwater planet for the past several decades. What has Bridget said and how will these two tersies judge him?

 

She’d fussed over him before they came to visit, smoothing down his clothes and making sure he shaved. Was she worried about what they’d think of him too?

 

Having an uncanny sense for Stinger’s moods, Bridget squeezes his hand and asks, “Sure you don’t want to come along?”

 

“We’ll be fine,” Greg, Bridget’s dad, insists.

 

But she waits for Stinger’s approval. Time for his poker face. When he squeezes back and gives his nonchalant,  “Aye,” she kisses his cheek and follows her mother out the door. 

 

As soon as they hear the door close, the steely eyed showdown begins... 

 

“So...Stinger... Bridget says you’re a Captain. Captain of what?” Greg leads and leans his elbows on his knees, but his look hasn’t softened.

 

Damn. Stinger was just going to do that. No mirroring, not yet. Minimizing his accent so he doesn’t come across as a country bumpkin, he answers matter-of-factly,  “The flagship for Her Majesty Jupiter Jones. Before that I was employed by Aegis, and before that one of the highest ranking Skyjackers in the Commonwealth Legion. I’ve had almost a century of combat experience in some of the worst hot spots in the ‘verse, Sir,”  he answers confidently, gliding smoothly over the demotion to marshal and Caine’s court-martial business. It’s odd feeling like he has to answer ‘Sir’ to this man who’s less than half his age.

 

“A century, huh? Interesting. Bridget said some people live for a long time. Any family?”

 

Why does this feel more like an interrogation? But he can’t avoid getting to know her parents.  “One daughter, a few years younger than Bridget,”

 

“And you don’t find that odd? Lord Titus impressed us greatly. As my wife said, ‘Such a charming young man.’ ”

 

Stinger frowns.

 

“You have something against the man who saved my grandson?” Greg challenges.

 

With a darkening expression, Stinger says it like it is.  “With all due respect, Titus, the smarmy bastard, is several millennia old. Yet he asked your daughter to be in his harem. Did she tell you?”

 

Remaining quiet, Greg waits for Stinger to finish.

 

“In the 'verse age is of little concern. Entitleds are always out for themselves and ensure they get more than they give. He was using her innocence and trust. I’ve been around long enough to see a planet right after it was harvested of all the people living there, simply for an entitled’s whim. I know of only two exceptions in royalty. They’re both good hearted, strong women - much like Bridget.”

 

“She mentioned some of it. But your reaction and viewpoint was important. I wanted to be sure you weren’t just going to tell us what you thought we wanted to hear. We’ve dealt with that too many times,” Greg reveals.

 

Choosing to mirror Greg’s posture now, Stinger decides cutting to the chase will be best. Just like when he’d deal with a new commander or troublesome recruit.  “You’re probably asking yourself, why is this gruff old bloke seeing your much younger daughter?”

 

“She’s an adult and makes her own choices. But I am curious,” Greg seems amused by the point blank manner.

 

“She picked me, gods know why… twice now. Said something about liking my accent at first. My trust and respect isn’t given lightly, especially with humans. But she and I have been through quite a bit. On numerous occasions, she’s stuck up for me and my kind. Even when someone wiped all my memories of her from the last month, she stood by my side - when she could have walked away easily. Sir, your daughter is more than this old soldier deserves. She’s an amazing and determined woman. Know, I’ll do everything I can to make her happy.”

 

Greg nods. “ What do you mean ‘your kind’?”

 

Resisting clenching his teeth at having to open up so much to a complete stranger, Stinger sighs and acquiesces.  “My daughter and I are splices. Created beings from human DNA merged with that of another entity. For Kiza and I it’s a bee, which is a difficult splice because the genetics are vastly different.”

 

“Bees? Really? You don’t look different?”  Greg’s surprise doesn’t phase Stinger, who points out his hair and his hexagon pupils and lets them flash from blue-green to yellow. 

 

Continuing where he left off, “ After I earned the right to have Kiza spliced from my DNA, I went back to my splicer, one of the best in the ‘verse, and asked for a daughter so she’d have more rights. Drones, like me, are rare and are designed for only a few things...”

 

Prompting, Greg encourages him to finish his thought, “And those things are?” He seems riveted during this quick breakdown of the facts. He’s never met an ‘alien’ before, obviously. But this doesn’t help Stinger right now, who really wishes Greg weren’t paying as much attention. 

 

“Fighting and …”  Stinger covers his mouth with his fist and clears his throat, uncomfortably,  “for pleasing the one who is our Queen. Drones are usually sold into contracts for that latter ability.“

 

Yep, Stinger was dreading the very look he’s getting now from Greg. No father wants to dwell on that when it has to do with his daughter. Stinger most certainly doesn’t for Kiza. So he redirects quickly,  “I was fortunate enough to have a splicer who gave me the choice, and I chose the Legion. But enough about splices. Did I hear right, that you like to shoot? Bridget said there’s a range down the road.” Stinger jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

 

With eyes alight at the prospect and relief for the change of topic,  “I can’t pretend that I understand everything you said. But Bridget said you were particularly private and I appreciate the openness. My daughter always tries to make a level playing field, doesn’t she?”

 

“That she does, Sir.”

 

“Have a firearm with you?”

 

Finally Stinger feels comfortable enough to give a genuine smile and pats the side holster under his jacket,  “Always.”

 

“I’ll fetch mine,” Greg dashes off to a room in the back.

 

Hollering after him, Stinger offers,  “I paid for a private rental. So if you’d like to shoot something from off world...”

 

—

 

The girls arrive to an empty house and Bridget taps her neck. Explaining when she see’s the confused look from her mom,  “Just sending a message to Stinger. They’re at the range. Since the owner deals in some rather exotic weapons, Dad will love it. Well, maybe he’ll want another firearm now too...”

 

“Exotic?” Shar’s voice rises in pitch in alarm.

 

“Off planet, non tersie stuff. Much more efficient and better for the environment. I carry one of Stinger’s pistols with me for my job. Wanna see?”

 

“Listen to you… talking as if you didn’t grow up here. I’ll see later. Need to get supper going. Have a concealed carry permit?”

 

“Of course.” Bridget tries not to be annoyed with her mother for asking the obvious questions, as if she wouldn’t think of such things. “Whadda you need help with?”

 

“Salad. Dear, you seem happy. But are you truly? He seems a little rough around the edges and you said they live simply. That’s likely code for poor. Nothing wrong with that, I just don’t want you to have to go without. That’s all.”

 

The concern is touching but irritating at the same time. Bridget knows darn well, the reasons her mom chose her dad. Granted she came to love him. And to her credit, she never seemed to begrudge anyone who needed help financially as her dad anonymously helped out quite a few families over the years. 

 

Digging in the fridge and in the cupboards she pulls out the ingredients.  “He was quite poor, Mom. He saved all he could for Kiza’s treatments. But his new job is allowing him and Kiza to finally have the life they want. They choose to keep things simple, in part because they have always been in positions where they might have to move at a moment’s notice. If Her Majesty opts to reside on another planet, Stinger will have to go too. But we’re having fun fixing up his place. It’s becoming more and more of a hub for intergalactic activity. Who would have thought that for such a humble little bee farm.” Hoping her mom understands her few cryptic sentences, she tallies it would take days to explain everything about Stinger and why he’s here. But there’s not time for it all.

 

“And he treats you well?”  Mrs. Thornton looks up from washing the rice.

 

“Very well, Mama.” She only uses that name for her mother when things are emotional.

 

“That’s what counts,”  her mom gives a reassuring smile. But Bridget hopes it’s coming from her heart.  She desperately wants her parents to accept Stinger.

 

—

 

Greg is just trying out Stinger’s favorite shotgun, while he in turn takes aim with Greg’s favorite Sig Sauer side arm - the P522. The tersie weapon has more kick than his more advanced one. But it’s high quality. Greg said the Navy Seals prefer this brand because of it’s reliability. If Stinger ever picks up an Earth firearm - it’ll be one of these.

 

“So that rifle you said I should shoot next. It’s not standard issue, is it. Reminds me of a sniper rifle,” Greg queries.

 

“Bingo,” Stinger replies. “ Sharp shooter before I had a command.”

 

“You’ve done a little of everything.”

 

He shrugs, then his attention is directed elsewhere as he taps his neck and holds up a finger so he can process the message.  “Beeswax. Party’s over. Bridget and I are being summoned by Aegis regarding the investigation.”

 

Bridget’s dad looks longingly at the rifle, but waves it off.  “Another time. I’ll pay for the rental then.”

 

“Sure.” Stinger would actually enjoy it.  “But we’ll have to help you exchange for Commonwealth credits. Sam might get kicked off planet for what he’s doing for us today. Granted he’s got quite a few more shops on other worlds, but it’s credits that will make purchases out of this system.”

 

“Yet another thing that makes me feel like our little planet is in the ‘sticks’.”

 

“That’ll change soon enough,” Stinger chuckles.

 

“Think so?”

 

“Aye. Her Majesty’s hand will be forced at some point. She’ll have to allow ‘first contact’ in the official capacity,” Stinger reasons.

 

“Fascinating…”

 

Stinger taps his neck again and messages Bridget to be ready to go.

 

“Sorry we can’t stay for dinner, Mr. Thornton. Bridget was really looking forward to her mom’s cooking again.”

 

“Call me Greg,” he offers his hand to shake for the second time that evening. But this time there’s real meaning to it.

 

“Thanks,” Stinger gives a grateful hearty return and in his hurry to pick up all his gear, slaps his wrist against the wall. He checks his trusty watch, still working.

  
They say a girl usually picks a guy like her father, but Stinger keeps his mouth shut. Greg probably doesn’t think they’re much alike. Kind of like he knows he’s not like Kiza’s fiance. At all.


	3. AFTERMATH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bridget’s project: Bee Keeper’s Quilt - http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/the-beekeepers-quilt
> 
> Marcelline Calhoun is Stinger’s splicer

Putting his arm around Shar as they watch Stinger’s truck drive away, Greg asks her, “What do you think?”

 

Shar puts her head on his shoulder. With a wistful tone she shares,  “It’s so hard to remember she’s not a child, even though she looks just like when she was about to leave the house. I’m going through empty nest all over again.”

 

He pulls her tighter to him in sympathy.

 

“But that’s not what you’re asking. She loves him and she’s happy. There’s no dissuading her. Your thoughts?”

 

“He’s straightforward and likable. It was shocking to find he’s probably three times her age and his daughter is almost as old as she is. He also said she’s more than he deserves and he wants to make her happy. I believe him. He’s not the silver tongued Lord Titus. Doesn’t like talking about himself, but opened up to me. She could do much worse, like she did with Frank.”

 

“I liked Frank and Titus at first…”  she mumbles. 

 

“Not this Stinger?”

 

“I dunno. He’s so plain and unpolished,” she fusses lightly.

 

“I think that’s exactly why she likes him, dear.” Greg kisses the top of her head.  “Remember how you had to bring out the best in me?”

 

He’s rewarded with a nostalgic smile.

 

—

 

Driving out of town for a discreet shuttle pickup, Bridget and Stinger chat about how ‘meet the parents’ went. Stinger feels pretty confident about things with Greg — the parent he was dreading most. But he’s not sure what to think of Bridget’s mom. Bridget feels that’s likely because she’s giving very mixed signals. 

 

“How so?” Stinger probes, unsure what she’s getting at.

 

Not wanting to say it, she scrunches her nose and looks out the window.

 

“Out with it.” He keeps his eyes on the darkening road for deer that tend to pop up at dusk.

 

“Do I have to?” Bridget tries to dodge. She really doesn’t want to say it.

 

“Bees don’t lie, Love.”

 

“But from what I’ve seen, they might choose not to answer,” she pertly counters.

 

One of his eyebrows raises, conceding her point but letting her know he’s not joking around. When she goes back to staring at the fading lights of Omaha and plays with her necklace, he pulls over to the side of the road.

 

“Love…”  Putting a hand on her arm and gently tugging, he urges,  “tell me.”

 

She brings the pendant and chain up to her lips, but complies.  “She wants me to be with someone well off and refined. She was really taken with Titus when he showed up. ...Stinger…”

 

His hand caresses her cheek, then he pulls her head to his shoulder. She always seems to find comfort when she’s nestled safely in the crook of his neck. 

 

“She chose my dad over the first guy she loved so she wouldn’t have to be poor ever again. Mind you, she loves my dad now. But I can’t…  _ won’t  _ do that.” Her hands tightly grip his shirt, and he kisses the top of her head. The need to make sure he understands takes over. She leans back, dragging him on top of her.  With possessive, unrestrained kisses, she works her way up from his shirt collar, lingering on his splicer’s mark, and finally to his jaw and meets no resistance. 

 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and throat,  “Can’t predict you...”

 

She breathes into his ear,  “I love you always and forever, Stinger Apini. Nothing in the entirety of the ‘verse could replace you. As long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

 

Leaning back, he takes in what she said. When he speaks, his voice is thick,  “Makes me the luckiest drone in the ‘verse.”  There’s nothing he wants more in this moment than to make her happy. He can’t remember the last time he truly wanted to simply focus on someone else, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is here and now, and he smothers her in deep lasting kisses. Cupping a hand over her breast, he repeatedly digs his hips into hers and she welcomes it matching his movements.

 

She starts tugging at his jacket and shirt and moans,  “Too many clothes…”

 

Checking the time he responds,  “No time. I’ll make it up to ye.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Unfortunately, that’s when bright lights appear in the windshield and hover in front of Stinger’s truck.

 

“Damn it,” Stinger’s choice words are very staccatoed with his annoyance as he bolts to sitting and shields his eyes with his hand.

 

“Cops?” Bridget asks as she readjusts her clothing before peeking over the dash.

 

“Worse. Tsing wouldn’t hunt us down unless she thinks we’ve made her late. Thing is we haven’t.” 

 

Simultaneously they feel a buzz and tap their necks. Tsing’s dreadful teasing begins with a frosty note,  “While I’m happy you two rabbits are still getting along particularly well, I would appreciate it if you’d board my shuttle at your earliest convenience.”

 

Stinger clues Bridget in on the double talk from Tsing as he tucks in his shirt and makes sure his jeans are fastened. (Bridget hadn’t worked at the zipper, but it would be just his luck if he didn't’ check — that his fly would be open and Tsing would never let him forget it. The current situation is bad enough.)  “At your earliest convenience is Legion lingo for double time it before I come over and drop kick your asses. We better go.”

 

As quickly as they can manage, they lock the truck, grab their to go bags, and run at full tilt hand in hand to the transport.

 

##  ON THE SHUTTLE

They’d not spoken a word the entire flight, but maintained physical contact. During the approach sequence, Stinger brings up something that’s been simmering in his thoughts.  “Trouble Love… ”  When he has her attention he shares his observation as gently as he knows how,  “More than a week later, ye’re still having troubles dealin’ with my memory wipe, aren’t ye? ”

 

She goes back to agitatedly running the little gold bee back and forth on its chain around her neck and nods. “ How could you tell?”

 

Scooping her up from the bench into his lap, he curls his arms around her protectively and she snuggles into his chest.  “Your old messages are different from how you’ve been acting this last week. The experience sapped something from your vibrant nature.”

 

No need for an answer, it’s understood between them.

 

“I can’t change what happened. But what I  _ can _ do is schedule a backup of my memories. Don’t want to put you through this ever again.”

 

“But your privacy… Isn’t it risky if it falls into the wrong hands?”

 

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

 

She throws her arms around his neck, but says,  “Don’t do it. I’ll recover. It’ll just take time.”

 

Clutching her a little tighter he insists,  “It could happen again. Two more wiped drones were recovered. For myself, I don’t want to go through constantly wondering what I’m missing ever again. This is something I can do to protect ‘us’.”

 

##  THE BRIDGE

 

Tapping her foot, arms crossed and a stern scowl on her face, Tsing waits in her captain’s chair. Yet another day Stinger requires the patience of a saint, and his bad habits seem to be rubbing off on Bridget ta-boot. On top of that she’s dealing with personal issues and pressure from the top. Headache city.

 

“They’ve boarded, Captain, and are double timing it here,” her ensign reports.

 

When the doors admit the pair, Stinger makes a show of it and saunters in. Bridget is still catching her breath from running across the ship, though she clasps his hand and tries to hurry him along.

 

Tsing rounds on the one she views as responsible for ruining her schedule,  “Damn you Stinger Apini. I’m so tired of your antics! Why can’t you keep your pants on for the few moments before a mission?”

 

“It was my fault,” Bridget pipes up in his defense, but ears bright red.

 

“Lass, it wasn’t. I checked the time.” Turning defiantly to Tsing he volleys,  “You were early,”  he taps his trusty timepiece and the crystal face cover falls to the floor. Stomping on it out of anger he mumbles,  “Damn budget cuts.”

 

Tsings crew is in a fitful combination of politely covering their mouths and trying very hard to find something of interest at their stations so the trio can’t see their faces.

 

Growling, she issues the order to be underway before taking her venom out on Stinger.  “Old man, my record for being on time in a budget tight force is impeccable - unless we’re on a mission with you. You alone tempt me to refuse orders!”

 

“Mika…his pants were on, really. And it was my fault we’re late. We were dealing with a family issue.“ Bridget takes the scolding to heart. 

 

Tsing dismisses them curtly.

  
  


##  ABOUT AN HOUR LATER

Stinger and Bridget are seated cozied up on the sofa, while she works on another afghan and he catches up on messages, letting Caine know his status. This blanket, in the beginning stages, will be made of a bunch of little hexagon puffs tied together. She’s almost done with another puff, when they hear the bing bong of the entrance bell. Bidding Tsing in, they both sit up to give her their attention.

 

Unwilling to start the conversation, she sits and folds her hands in her lap.

 

So Stinger prompts her, “ What’s wrong, Mika? ”

 

Tsing sighs, “ A much shorter list would be what’s right, Old Man. Troubles with Jack and his difficulties trusting anyone.”

 

Stinger lifts a knowing eyebrow in Bridget’s direction as if to say ‘ Told ye.’

 

Unusually oblivious, Tsing pauses and doesn’t notice the exchange. She must be really caught up in her thoughts as she finishes, “And the latest issue is a real bugger… Marcelline Calhoun turned herself in to authorities a few hours ago. No further details were given. We’re on our way to pick her up. ”

  
The drone’s hands ball up into tight fists, knuckles turning white. No choice words fit his black mood.


	4. ON THE SUBJECT OF QUEENS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Misstress is an old formal title for a lady in charge of something or a lady that governs - http://www.newstatesman.com/cultural-capital/2014/09/mistress-miss-mrs-or-ms-untangling-shifting-history-women-s-titles
> 
> Cultural notes: visiting Royalty (even it if is just bee royalty) would be lower in status than the one at home. https://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20120201211335AAoeSX5

“I said no, and I meant it,” Stinger growls.

 

“Not even if I give you a _ really  _ good back rub?” she wheedles one more time before she’s on the wrong side of his glare. As transparent as glass, she has a mission. “I give up. See you at supper.”

 

His hand whips out and catches her wrist, hoping she’ll see his side.. “A queen stays in her hive for the good of the whole. Can’t be rousted.” 

 

Straddling his lap, she runs her fingertips up the nape of his neck. “While I’d love to be referred to as _ your  _ queen, I happen to know a queen  _ does  _ move on occasion and her hive follows.”  She gives him a wink, then an ever so tempting kiss, not letting up for several minutes.

 

Breaking off but wanting more, he pants. “Woman... Can’t think straight when you do that.”

 

“It’s a super power. Only used for good.” Giving a fair imitation of a Cheshire cat, she tugs on his hands and pulls in the direction of the bed.

 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, so he doesn’t just blindly agree, he concedes just enough to not be in hot water. “I’ll follow you anywhere… except to see her. She’s as much as admitted her guilt by turning herself in. I can’t abide it.”

 

She nods and tugs a little harder. “Then don’t think about it.”

 

He can’t argue with that.

 

##  THE CELL BLOCK

When Miss Chattergee opens the cell, Bridget’s first thought is that maybe Stinger was right. Before her primly sits one of the most perfect young women she’s ever seen. But Bridget reminds herself, this lady is older than Stinger. And she can’t shake that there’s something familiar.

 

Curious cool grey eyes, rimmed in smokey black, meet her own. Strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid falls over her shoulder and to the bench beside her with little honeybees intertwined throughout. Bridget can’t detect any powder on her high alabaster very lightly freckled cheeks. But her full lips are definitely done - covered in gold glitter. Even her clothes reflect apis mellifera colors - a butter yellow tank and grey/yellow stripe skirt with a gold honeycomb ornamented grey choker collar. She’s much more conservative than all of the other women of means that Bridget’s seen.

 

Feeling so plain and out of place, Bridget’s never been one to worry about such things before.

 

Then a smile lights up the splicer’s face when she detects the little gold bee necklace from Stinger, making Bridget play with it nervously. 

 

After a moment of Bridget just staring, the woman’s head tilts in question.

 

“S..sorry. Stinger didn’t warn me you’d be so perfectly lovely,” Bridget blurts. 

 

Concealing whatever reaction she had, she asks, “So he’s here?”. Her accent has a more elegant sound than Stinger’s.

 

Bridget squares her shoulders and nods. This isn’t the time to feel self conscious.

 

“Ah, yes. So you came because he wouldn’t. Why didn’t I make him less stubborn?... Kind of you, though. Perhaps you’d sit and keep me company?” she gestures to the bench across the way.

 

As the cell door closes, the regal woman reaches a hand out in a gesture so familiar but not common among many in the ‘verse. “Marcelline Calhoun.”

 

Taking her hand and remembering her manners, Bridget returns the introduction. Marcelline’s warm sentiment, that it’s nice to meet Bridget too, show genuinely on her soft kind face.

 

“Well, I don’t know what to ask first. So many questions running through my head. Perhaps I should start with what Stinger wants to know. He always says ‘Bees don’t lie’ and I figure he learned that from you. So… Why?” Bridget grimaces with the question.

 

“Since you seem to know him well, you’ll also know things aren’t always as they appear. I designed his bee traits to be mostly hidden, so he could blend in with society. Bees make the very best spy networks, you know. His hives aren’t just pollinators.”

 

It may have been a trick of the light, but she swears the woman’s eyes just changed color like Stinger’s, and Bridget’s eyebrow raises.

 

Marcelline continues, “It’s good for him, that you aren’t a subtle queen, even if you may be a tad naive. So I’ll be forthright. My surrender was for reasons of safety, not guilt.”

 

Finally the blank is filled in for Bridget and she thunks her head on the wall in relief. “So… you’re seeking asylum.” Then it dawns on her what Marcelline referred to her as. “But I’m not a queen by any stretch of the imagination.”

 

“A drone gives you his favor and shares your bed. You are.”

 

Bridget’s face falls just a little as her hand still holds the little bee on a chain, “He doesn’t remember giving it to me…”

 

“Has he asked you to remove it?” This lady doesn’t seem to be surprised by anything and she’s more regal than Bridget could ever hope to be.

 

Bridget slowly shakes her head ‘no’.

 

“Then my statement stands, dear. Now tell me, how are Stinger and Kiza. We lost touch after his court martial.”

 

Sucking in a breath, Bridget realizes why she had that half recognition at first. Kiza has many of Marcelline’s features - especially the eyes. “Kiza looks…”

 

“He never told you? Kiza is the closest I’ve had to a daughter. The law won’t let me claim her as my own child because she’s my splice.” 

 

Soon the two ladies are engrossed in question and answer about the splices lives past and present. Marcelline hints at the fact that she and Stinger were intimate years ago. Fresh out of the Andromeda War and just through a recode, he came back to request Kiza’s splice. But he didn’t stay. Couldn’t - she supposes.

 

Unsure if she’s jealous or weirded out by the fact that this woman who created both Stinger and Kiza, was also Stinger’s lover — she can’t get past the thought that Marcelline is the closest thing both he and his daughter have to a mother. Bridget changes the topic and asks her about splicing in general. 

 

Marcelline counters, “You haven’t asked about the eyes, if you are to know the whole of Stinger and I — you should know it.”

 

“Ok…” Bridget guesses Marcelline may not offer again. She makes a mental note to ask specifically about protocol and customs for bee splices.

 

“As a child, I was stung by a single bee and the reaction was most severe. To save me, the doctors took a grave risk and made me into a splice, merging my DNA with the very apis mellifera that almost killed me. It’s practically unheard of for a post birth human to be made into a splice. But it saved my life. After that I was obsessed with splicing and bees. A good thing too, because it took me half a millennia to pay back the cost involved. Splices are not allowed to create others. But since I had been born human, they allowed an exception. In my time, I’ve made many splices. But Stinger, he’s very special. The finest of my drones. His genes are permanently copyrighted. So, he will  _ always _ be unique. Know what a treasure you have in him.” 

 

“So both as a splice and talented splicer, you sought protection. Makes real sense.”

 

“What will you tell him?”

 

At that moment Bridget feels the familiar tingle of a message coming in. Tapping her neck, she smirks. “Not sure, but I have about ten seconds to figure it out before he comes hunting me down. According to him I’m taking too long — code for ‘he’s worried’.”

 

It brings a grin from the splicer and she busies herself filing her nails to give Bridget a smidge of privacy.

 

Responding then returning her attention, “I told him I’d be back soon, don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

 

“Do you think he will visit me?”

 

Patting her hand, Bridget gets up to go. “I expect so. You’re important to him.”

 

— 

 

Tsing catches Bridget, in the hall around the corner from her quarters, informing her of a few Earth matters. There’s no way to politely excuse herself  _ and  _ support her friend who’s been such a help. She hears his swearing echoing from down the hall and feels the buzz of a message. Tapping her neck as he comes into view, she responds and grins, “Right here.”

 

“He’s got that look, Brid. I’d better not stand between you two. Wouldn’t survive the incident. Tell me when you get the time.” Tsing winks at her on her way back to the bridge. “Thanks for listening.”

 

Standing there dumbly, parts from his gun cleaning dangle uselessly in his hand. His signature suspiciously raised eyebrow combined with his pouting pursed lips would look almost comical if she didn’t know he was concerned. Though, she’s trying to figure out why. Marcelline was a delight to meet.

 

“So?” As if unmovable, he waits for her to spill the beans.

 

“Let’s order a drink from the bar, and I’ll tell you what I know.” She takes his arm, but lets him have a say.

 

“That bad?” His brows furrow.

 

It makes her giggle and squeeze his arm. “The opposite actually. But I’m not telling you until we can sit down and relax and I’m in the mood for some of that shipment of Jinko’s mead.”

 

“Just tell me, then we’ll go for anything you want,” he persists, only a tad less tense.

 

“This is going to be a long discussion. I have as many questions for you as I had for her. Please, humor me,” she pleads sticking out her bottom lip in the expression that usually melts him.

 

“Then, as soon...” he starts.

 

She puts a finger up to his lips to gently shush him. “Yes. I promise.”

 

“Then I’ll meet you there. Still have to finish cleaning my Strike 543. Don’t dally - think I’ll need the drink,” he directs.

 

“Go clean your favorite pistol, I’ll be back asap.”

 

“The make and model can make a big difference, I’ll have you know,” he tuts and shakes the cleaning rod at her.

 

“Same goes with yarn. So no fussing when I’m shopping.” Clasping her little bee pendant, she gets a glint in her eye and an amused expression. 

 

“What?...” He’s suspicious now.

 

Sashaying down the hall, she answers - but doesn’t look back, “You’ll find out soon enough. Pints first.”

 

Loathing when Bridget puts him on edge, he glowers and mutters, “Oh bloody hell,” as he returns to cleaning his firearm that isn’t  _ just  _ any old pistol.

 

##  STINGER AND BRIDGET’S QUARTERS

Bridget does hurry back, waving off several friends who heard she talked with Marcelline with promises of ‘later’. He still seems anxious, but the tankard of fire honey mead seems to settle him enough to stop his pacing. She pats the sofa and he sits unsettled beside her. His curt, “Out with it,” makes Bridget wonder what Marcelline _ didn’t  _ say. Sharing the most important items first - she at least thinks to wait until he’s not mid sip this time.

 

“First: Marcelline Calhoun didn’t turn herself in over guilt. It’s for protection. There’s been an attempt on her too.”

 

Setting his pint down, his attention is riveted, “And?”

 

“She really wants to see you. Asked about you right away.” She watches as his mouth opens then closes. 

 

He’s really struggling as he wipes a hand over his face, “I thought…”

 

Intertwining her fingers in his, she waits patiently.

 

“Doesn’t matter now,” he decides out loud.

 

“Are you sure? You seem quite conflicted. I’ll listen,” she tries coaxing.

 

He nods, but still seems to be convincing himself.

 

“Stinger, you’re making  _ me  _ anxious. Are you talking yourself into seeing her? Do you  _ want _ to?”

 

He licks his lips and considers. “It’s my duty.”

 

“That’s not what I asked,” Bridget’s look turns more serious.

 

“It’s been decades since we were in contact. She seems to have treated you well. And she knows about ‘us’?” 

 

Bridget’s not sure if he’s avoiding the question or gathering intel. “Yes, I liked her right away. Do you want to know what else she said?”

 

“Please.”

 

That’s a rare word in his vocabulary. But she procedes to tell him of the encounter as it unfolded - including what Marcelline said about Stinger considering Bridget his queen because she wears his ‘favor’. 

 

“Did I understand her right?”

 

“Aye,” the word is barely audible. He’s extracting all possible meanings from what she’d said and treading with caution.

 

“Is that how you mean it? Is there more to it that I don’t understand? Or aspects you think could go badly?”

 

“All the above.” 

 

She asks one more question, wishing she didn’t have to, “Do you still have feelings for her?”

 

Letting go of her hand, he gets up to walk across the room, rubbing his temples then running his hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

 

To Bridget the silence feels like he’s drifting off into space - no lifeline. Should she risk it and go after him? 

 

She dares it. Gliding over to him, she puts a hand on his cheek and he leans into it. But his expression looks perplexed.

 

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he whispers, voice tinged with some regret Bridget can’t comprehend.

 

“You couldn’t have stopped me. Talk to me, please. We have to deal with this, or it’ll come back to bite us.”

 

His head dips to rest on her shoulder, and he slips his hands into her back pockets - staying that way for a good while. She begins to wonder if he forgot to answer, but snuggles into him.

 

Finally he pulls back and raises her bee pendant in one hand, “At one time, I loved her. But, as she pointed out - you, Loveliest Trouble, carry my favor.” Letting it go, he opts to change topics. “Bridget, what she said about why I left — that’s not the whole of it.”

 

She hopes it won’t take him as long to continue again. “I’m listening.”

 

“She wanted me to be a part of something I couldn’t,” Stinger recalls.

 

“What was it?” Bridget needs to know more than anything right now.

 

“A splice rebellion.”

 

Her eyes widen. So he must have thought Marcelline was recruiting and starting again, if she ever stopped her efforts to begin with.

 

“Her motive is noble, but this would be the most bloody war ever fought. Splices just out number humans. Her Grace Chouli is leading a peaceful rebellion that I can stand behind. But not Mistress Calhoun’s.”

 

Bridget purses her lips, she’s not sure he’ll want her to ask. But she needs to know what Marcelline is capable of. “Did she try to push you into anything?”

 

“Aye. She’s the queen of her hive and knows it. It was hard for her to understand why I didn’t see things her way, when so many of our ideals are the same. Many would blindly follow her. As a seasoned commander, she expected me to.” Running a thumb over her cheekbone, he shares his contrasting thoughts, “Don’t fret over it. Your insistence that I have freedom to choose is the biggest reason I remain with you. I could see it in every evidence of us before the memory wipe, at the trial and when you talked with your friends at the bar.” He kisses the top of her head to emphasize his point.

 

Taking a calculated risk, she asks. “I want to understand what I’m dealing with. She’s drop dead gorgeous - even _ I  _ couldn’t stop staring. You said it’s complicated. Do you still love her? Is it something that could compromise ‘us’? Does she want you back?” 

 

“Lass, that’s more than one question at a time... again,” he half complains, half pleads. Too many emotional questions all at once, and his mind gets a little overloaded.  “One. No it won’t be a problem. 

 

Two. She and I subtly shifted over the last century. At first it was loyalty to my splicer. When I returned, yes - she made sure I noticed her. Beyond looks, she knows me inside and out - like you’re starting to. Also, as splices we’re both in the same boat. She wanted to improve our lot and I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Despite what she’d planned, her heart’s in the right place. Or it was - last I saw her. 

 

Still care for her? Probably - but not in the same way. And not like Tsing and I. Words fail me there.”

 

“Fair enough. Why does she want to talk with you? She didn’t seem to act like I was competition.”

 

“Won’t know until we ask. Have to keep our guard up.”

 

“We?”

 

He insists, “We.”

 

##  OUTSIDE MARCELLINE’S CELL

Taking a deep breath, Stinger ignores the guard behind them and asks Bridget, “You ready?”

 

“Wish I knew what to be ready for…” she laments.

 

“Same here,” he squeezes her hand then kneels on one knee, placing one hand over the other and bowing his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her and chides, “Stop staring. It’ll be better if you accept what I do here as natural. It may get ....”

 

“Complicated?” she fills in with one of his favorite words, and his eyes momentarily close in the comfort of her knowing him.

 

“Open the door,” he directs, gazing at the floor.

 

It’s really weird to see him kneel before  _ anyone _ . He’s usually as obstinate as they come. “Stinger?” her voice rises in pitch. “Is there anything else I need to know before we go in?”

 

“You’ll do fine.” He gives a reassuring smile.  Bridget doesn’t feel as confident, but she presses the button.

 

The door opens and Marcelline is particularly pleased to see Stinger as he greets her, “Mistress Calhoun. Greetings from the Apini Hive.” 

 

She bends to greet him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Rise dear Stinger.” Placing her hands on his shoulders in an almost possessive fashion, she kisses each of his cheeks. 

 

Passively, he puts up with the handling. Bridget can’t remember the last time he was simply compliant about anyone touching him. Even Tsing keeps it to a minimum. Is this a splicer, splice, or queen thing? Gods, she wishes she could video this so she can remember all her questions later.

 

"It’s been too long.” The splicer puts up her right hand and he places his hand on hers, in what can only be the first step to a dance in this extremely cramped space.

 

When they repeat with their left hands, he answers. “It has, Mistress. But you haven’t forgotten Kiza and I.”

 

She clasps her hand around his, but looks a little distressed over his response. “Never. How could I forget the finest drone I created or the child I bore? Forgive me for losing contact with you both.”

 

Bridget swallows. Marcelline didn’t say that she was pregnant with Kiza, and here she’d felt that this woman had really opened up to her. In her defense, Marcelline hardly knows Bridget, and she did hint about not telling everything. ‘Stay cool, girl,’ Bridget tells herself.

 

Attention now on Bridget, Marcelline asks if she’d like to learn the formal greeting and explains the meaning of the steps involved. The first two are a sign of mutual respect, which she and Bridget only would do. But the hand clasp is the sign of a bond between the two. Stinger used to also kiss Marcelline’s hand as a sign of his devotion. 

 

A pert reprimand is the last the splicer has to say on the matter, “But that would now be reserved for you dear Bridget, _ if  _ Stinger will humble himself enough to continue tradition. Do have him teach you.” 

 

With a disdainful nose wrinkle, Stinger keeps his mouth shut. Bridget sees he won’t contradict Marcelline. Jeeze, does he have to ‘behave’ all the time? No wonder he doesn’t like contracts in general and chooses the ones he feels are less restrictive.

 

Bridget just shakes her head. Why would she want him to act so robotic? “Stinger will do as he sees fit and is a gentleman when he needs. I like him a little rough and tumble - just like when we first met. If he wishes to teach me, I’ll be happy to learn.”

 

“You disagree that he should be well mannered and polished? What manner of contract do you have with him?” Marcelline leans back and crosses her arms, hoping for more explanation —  proud that she’d trained him well and not understanding why anyone would want otherwise.

 

“Why shouldn’t he be how he wishes? Everyone I know, likes him for the gruff and honest soldier he is. He’s not a thing, where I should make his decisions.  We have a mutual agreement, since he’s my boyfriend. No more, no less.” Bridget feels like her hackles should be up. 

 

“Then I can acquire his contract. Good,” Marcelline nods as if all is settled.

 

“Actually, no. He has a contract as Captain of the flagship for Her Majesty Jupiter Jones. Perhaps you’ve heard of the recurrence of Seraphi Abrasax?” 

 

Wide disbelieving eyes dart to the other corner of the small cell, avoiding theirs.

 

“Whatever your plans for him - he’s made his choice.  _ His choice  _ is of utmost importance,” Bridget stresses.

 

“Good grief. You’re sounding like Her Grace Chouli Risa… and here I’d thought we’d made a connection.” Marcelline waves haughtily as if the conversation is ended.

 

Bridget won’t be dismissed so easily and Marcelline is a captive audience. “We  _ did _ make a very nice connection, but I don’t just roll over. In that, I will always be a strong willed queen. Much like yourself.”  She nudges, Stinger, “If you’re doing something dumb like waiting for me to give you permission to talk, you won’t get it. You know me better than that.”

 

He shrugs with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “No need. It’s entertaining enough to watch the two of ye.”

 

Bridget gives him a playful kick and he protests but returns it.

 

Softening a little as she watches them be so sophomoric, Marcelline bemoans, “You’re wasting his talents, dear. He’s capable of so much.”

 

Stinger clears his throat and finally speaks up for himself as he waggles his eyebrows conspiratorially and refers to one of the two reasons a drone is created, “She’s hardly wasting my talents, Mistress.”

 

A guffaw that one wouldn’t expect to come from such a posh lady, emerges from Marcelline and it infects the whole trio. When she can breathe again, Mistress Calhoun shakes her finger at Stinger as she scolds, “You’re always such a scamp! I miss that about you.”

 

Bridget laces her fingers with Stinger’s and winks at him.

 

“So, you won’t reconsider what I asked of you before your banishment to a remote post, even though our kind is under attack.” Marcelline consoles herself, “At least you seem content.”

 

“Aye, Mistress,” Stinger acknowledges and relaxes a bit by leaning back and propping one of his boots on his opposite knee. 

 

“Do you think Kiza will want to see me?” she asks a little concerned, since Stinger didn’t want to see her at first.

 

“She misses you. No matter what the law says, you’re her mum. If you wish to visit our humble home for her upcoming wedding, you’d be welcome. Just remember it’s my turf and I won’t bother with submission,” Stinger invites.

 

Marcelline looks to Bridget for confirmation, who shrugs. “It’s _ his  _ house.”

 

The reality of what Stinger said hits the splicer and a tear rolls down her cheek, “Married… my little girl… getting married? Is her lover good to her?”

 

Stinger sputters at the phrasing in that last question, so Bridget answers for him and reaches over to pat Marcelline’s hand. It has to be hard to find out this way while she’s cooped up in a cell and much a stranger to Kiza. “He’s very good to her - treats her like the queen she was born to be.”

 

“I  _ will  _ be there. My steward can still forward messages to me here. Send me the details,” Mistress Calhoun promises. “Now, I’ve taken too much of your time.  Go with my blessing.”

 

##  BACK IN STINGER AND BRIDGET’S QUARTERS

Bridget concedes, “Ok. I get why you were leery over the whole she thinks of me as your queen thing.”

 

“Thought you might.” He contentedly plops onto the couch, purposely slouching after having to sit rigidly formal.

 

“It explains a lot about why you act the way you do, and why you always feel like people are expecting something. I would never have dreamed you’d be capable of such a compliant manner -- letting her invade your personal space and handle you like a doll!” Sitting cross legged and sideways in the sofa, she pats her leg in invitation.

 

Gladly he lays down, putting his head in her lap. She must have read the tension in him. As soon as her fingers sink into his hair, he starts to relax and closes his eyes. Her ministrations have done wonders for him. Aside from sex, her massages are his favorite form of attention. No one else has ever sunk this much time and effort into him simply out of love. Why she chooses to give of herself, he doesn’t understand — but he’d be a fool to question it.

 

“I must have only seen the surface of the culture you left behind,” she comments as she works his scalp. It usually gets him to be more vulnerable, to tell her things he’d keep locked up otherwise. While she knows him well, there are still secrets to discover. And she wants to know him better than anyone else, particularly Marcelline.

 

“It’s all about the queen - her will, her protection, her hive. When I left and took Kiza, I wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive me. Though, by rights, Kiza is mine.”

 

“She must have been devastated. Do I understand it right she gave birth to Kiza?”

 

“Aye. She wasn’t allowed planetside when I was demoted to Earth’s Marshall. Kiza was still small then.”

 

“How can she just accept everything as it is right now? She even treats me like we could get along,” Bridget wonders out loud.

 

“Lass, it’s been three decades. Had plenty of time to think over her mistakes. Remember when I said her heart was in the right place? She’s willful as hell, but she can have grace too,” Stinger points out.

 

“I think she still loves you,” Bridget laments, now feeling sorry for Marcelline. How does she go from being jealous to having compassion for her in less than a minute?

 

“Her hive is the most important thing to her. They’ll practically shut down in her absence. Probably having a prayer vigil for her safety for the next few days. She’s had plenty of other lovers too, often at once. When I was with her, I wasn’t the only one. A favorite, but simply a drone.”

 

That catches Bridget off guard, “What?”

“It’s true.” He turns over to his side, so she can work on the crick in the back of his neck. 

 

She shifts too, putting one leg straight out so it doesn’t fall asleep. Then reaches over to open the slits on the back of his shirt and free his wings from being folded down and so cramped. He’s never said why he feels the need to conceal them most of the time. From what Tsing said, he used to parade about with them on display. The liberty of being able to stretch them out brings a contented rumble from him and he lack-a-dasically beats them in figure eight patterns making the light flicker different colors off the iridescence.

 

“She acted like you were the only lover ever in her life.”

 

He shrugs, “She makes everyone feel that way. And expects absolute devotion. Part of the whole queen gig.” Putting a hand on Bridget’s thigh and pulling her leg closer to him, he tries to help her understand. “Trouble Love, the rest of the ‘verse isn’t like you. Your personality and experiences are so different. The closest I’ve met to you is Her Majesty, but still a world of difference between the two of ye. You’re like a light in the darkness.”

 

“Poetic. But there’s zillions of stars in the darkness. I’m just one.”

 

“The one I orbit,” he counters and pulls one of her hands down so he can kiss each of her fingertips, lingering on every detail of the hands that put so much love into him and belong to the one who started to brighten his cynical view.

 

She opts to continue the analogy, “We orbit one another, binary stars in a dance of gravitational pull toward each other,’ and runs her free hand through his hair.

 

He scoots up to nuzzle into her hip. “You always bring others up to your level. Find something worthwhile in everyone, when the verse would write ‘em off.”

 

Cluing in to the fact that those words are really about him, despite his attempt to cover it with generalities, she scoots down to lay beside and hold him.

 

After soaking up the tender moment and the peace it brought, he mentions, “In four days, I return to duty.”

 

“I was hoping I could come along, my work is portable and Kiza can handle Earth. We’d planned it before this whole mess started.”

  
“Then it’s settled,” he states with finality and slips his hand under the back of her shirt to have contact with her skin. Yeah, it’s part lust. But he also just craves touching her for the tranquility she brings.


	5. OPPORTUNITY

##  ‘PEACE OF MIND’ SECURE MEMORY STORAGE FACILITY ON ORUS

The tall, authoritative, serif-font, brass letters on the front of the brick building do nothing to ease Stinger’s anxiety in each step of his quick pace. Halting in front of the door, his hand hovers just over the door’s genetic scanner. He reminds himself why he’s here. This is for him - so he doesn’t have to go around with a hole in his memories he can’t fill. This is for Bridget and Kiza and everyone he holds dear - so he’ll never forget any of them again. Reflecting on those faces, it surprises him just how many people he actually cares about. For the past thirty odd years up until a few months ago, he’d felt it was only him and Kiza against the rest of the ‘verse. 

 

Knowing she’d be worried, he’d opted to not tell Bridget when he’d made the appointment. This is one of the most invasive procedures in existence. He’ll have to trust the machine to do it’s job as it invades his mind, and trust the facility to never let anyone have access to the precious reflections that make him who he is. Trust does not come easy to this old soldier.

 

Then almost as bad is how long it takes. Talk about time consuming. One hundred and twenty two years gives one a ton of memories. And bloody expensive. He’d warned Kiza they’d need to continue to live simply for another year or so after he signed up for the series of storage sessions.

 

Steeling his nerve, he slaps his hand to the scanner and is admitted into the building.

 

##  POST PROCEDURE

The memory backup session had dredged up quite a few memories he’d rather have forgotten, Stinger’s too drained to walk far or take public transport. It’s easier to just make his way to a bar (as cover for where he’d been), pretend to be drunk and call a cab. Besides, he gets a few sips of mead in before the cab arrives. Not enough to forget the backup procedure, though.

 

##  STINGER’S FLAT

When he hears Bridget welcome him home as she makes supper, he stumbles over to her. Tired as he might be, when she embraces him, he clamps his arms around her and buries his head in her shoulder. Damn, he didn’t know how much he needed to hold her.

 

“Your meeting was that bad?” she cradles his head with one arm and wraps the other around his shoulders. 

 

Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, he nods. 

 

Intuition kicks in for her. If he actually admits it was bad - then it was  _ really  _ awful. She rocks back and forth, letting him soak up the embrace as if he’s a sponge.

 

“I love ye,” he mumbles almost inaudibly into her shoulder.

 

“Love you too. Can I move the food off the cooking flame so I don’t burn supper?”

 

Reluctantly he lets her go, but clings to her a little less firmly when she returns. The initial wave of emotional exhaustion has settled down some, but he’s still determined to have contact with her.

 

“Ok. What has you in such a state?” she urges as she runs her fingers through his hair.

 

His shoulders droop a bit, but he takes a breath and plows through with a particularly thick accent. “Went to put me memories in storage. Had to face so many ghosts from me past.”

 

She cranes her neck back trying to get a look at him. “You went without an escort, didn’t you? Stinger, you could have been attacked again!”

 

“I wasn’t.” He reasons and tries to tuck his hands into her back pockets, but she’ll have none of it.

 

“Stinger Apini, gods willing, this is the only time I’ll ever have to do this. But until this splice-napping, mind wiping stuff is over - promise me you won’t go out without an escort.” When he doesn’t answer she presses, “Promise me.” 

 

His face darkens and his jaw sets, showing his loathing for being told what to do. All he’d wanted was to hold her. 

 

Softening her tone considerably she shares why she’s trying to make him promise, “You’re too precious to me. I can’t do without you.”

 

He’s on the defensive now. “Woman, why do ye think I went today?”

 

She tucks his head back where it had been - surprised he actually lets her do it. Usually his stubbornness would kick in and he’d be withdrawn and sullen. Bemoaning the fact that they just won’t see eye to eye on this, she muses, “My dear, dear Old Codger, sometimes getting you to see another perspective is like trying to push the sea.”

 

It brings a soft chuckle from him, because it’s all too true. 

 

Quietly, as if she’s afraid she’ll spoil the mood she says, “We’ll poke some food into you and I’ll do what I can to soothe your mind.”

 

Finally, the smell of the wild rice and lamb stew registers in his brain and his stomach rumbles at the aroma of his favorite of her dishes. How she knows him so well and loves him despite it all, he doesn’t understand. But he’s relieved. Impulsively, he sneaks his hands back to those pockets he’d been denied and trails kisses up her neck to her lips. This time she welcomes it. He murmurs, “I’ll take ye up on that, Love.” 

 

##  0200 HOURS ORUS TIME

Just after Stinger and Bridget had expended every last drop of energy on each other and the two had crashed in each other’s arms, a priority FTL from Diomika arrives.

 

‘Two more splice-nappers in custody. Willing to work with us. Her Majesty said she’d spare you for this if you were willing. You in? 5 hours to pick up.’

 

He groggily groans as he types his reply, “Aye, I’ll do it to get a chance at those bastards. But damn it, Mika couldn’t I have even 24 hours holiday?”

 

Sleepily Bridget mumbles, “What are you griping about over there?”

 

“An assignment. Get what sleep ye can, Love.”

  
  


##  TSING’S CONFERENCE ROOM 0700 HOURS ORUS TIME

Tsing, Jack Vespini (the wasp splice that had also been splice-napped around the time Stinger was), Stinger, Bridget and Percadium are gathered around the table. 

 

“You can’t be serious?” Bridget’s protest rises with her emotion and she feels Stinger’s fist tighten. “He’s really tense right now, I’m not sure he really wants to go.”

 

Through clenched teeth he grumbles, “Lass, ye have a death grip on me hand.”

 

“Oh.” She shrinks a bit as she loosens her grip, but is determined to continue to hold on.

 

Still directing his answer to her, he adds, “We have a chance to catch these bastards. I’ve faced much worse odds.”

 

“You won’t be going alone, Sting. Jack has joined Her Grace Chouli Risa’s resistance.” Tsing tries to even the field here, but she just gets a glare from Stinger. “Sting, he’s perfect for undercover work and you know it. No ties to hold him back and he’s solidly on our side.”

 

Grumpily slumping back into his seat, he verifies, “So Jack and I will have a data chip that kicks in to restore our mission parameters after the wipe. The former kidnappers surrender us at the rendezvous point, and we infiltrate from there. Mr. Night better have done a fucking good job on that chip, or we don’t stand a chance.”

 

Tsing nods.

 

Unsure he wants to trust this inexperienced splice, he queries,“Why are you doing this Jack?

 

“The Captain and Her Grace have given me a freedom I’ve never had before. One that all our kind deserves and I have no attachments.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Stinger crosses his arms and tilts his head in Tsing’s direction. “It may only be one sided at this point, but...”

 

“Stinger Apini, you will damned well mind your own business,” Tsing snaps forcefully, which only gives credence to Stinger’s story. 

 

But Jack’s brows furrow. “Since bees don't’ lie, it appears I may not be the perfect candidate after all.” 

 

Leaning forward, Stinger slaps the table, “It means you may have more to fight for, and  _ that  _ is something I can work with.”

 

##  ON BOARD THE HEMLOCK 66 (THE SPLICE-NAPPER’S SHIP)

Bridget and Stinger take a moment alone in the hall, before he allows who knows how much of his memories to be wiped. 

 

“I had Chicanery insert an image of me and a message on your chip,” her voice is strained as she clings to him, and sinks her fingers into his hair. “I hate that you won’t remember me again when you return.”

 

“Ditto.” He nuzzles her cheek and takes a deep breath to fight the rising emotion. He can’t be distraught when he goes in. The more he fights the wipe, the more memory it will take. But by all the gods of the ‘verse he dreads not being able to remember her again. “It’s gonna be ok,” he states as sure as he can for his own benefit as well as hers.

 

“Can I be with you through the procedure?” She pulls him tighter.

 

“No, Love. The secret files will be buried deep and triggered post wipe and on command they can be repressed. A last memory of you will be at the forefront of my mind. Easily discovered. The operation is deep cover. But, I may need you to fight like hell for me again, until I can get my saved memories restored.”

 

Suddenly, she kisses him so possessively and intensely that it shoves him into the wall. “I take that as a yes,” he grins and returns the passionate lip lock.

  
When she watches him walk into the med bay, she sees Tsing and Jack holding hands as they say their farewells. At least she and Tsing can support each other through this.


	6. INTO THE HORNET’S NEST

##  EN ROUTE TO THE RENDEZVOUS POINT

“Whoa there, mate,” Stinger, who woke up first, tries to settle the young wild eyed, bronze skinned wasp splice who just awoke. Normally he’d feel a strong species rivalry toward a splice of an aggressive bee variant breed. But there’s something about you both being disoriented and in the same holding cell that brings a temporary truce if not the beginning of a bond. “You won’t feel so good for a few moments, but you’ll be ok,” he warns without giving too much away.

 

When Jack’s head sinks to his hands and he groans, Stinger kneels beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder until the pain of the file insertion passes. 

 

Holding out a hand to help the other drone up so they can investigate their quarters, he offers, “Name’s Stinger. What’s yours, Lad?” Stinger already knows Jack’s name from the secret files flashed into his brain, but he has to keep up appearances for the monitoring devices.

 

##  THE DROP

The two drones are bound and led into a run down ship in the Vulpes system, and after being scanned for any memory of a current contract are led to group quarters where they’re locked in with other insect variant splices and they’re released from their cuffs.   

 

Rubbing his wrists, Stinger takes stock of the room of splices. It’s not hard to ID the dominant one in the room of 50ish others - likely a paper wasp splice with yellow antennae, black and yellow hair streaked with occasional grey and if he was on Earth his face would have Asian features - complete with a fu manchu mustache. His quiet demeanor oozes a sense of power. 

 

Stinger nudges Jack and tilts his head in the leader’s direction, only to see Jack bristle. With a condescending arched brow, Stinger wonders how accurate the hidden file on this docile Jack Vespini really is. The lad must have some pent up aggression.

 

Indoctrination starts quickly as the ‘leader’ comes over to the two drones. “Ah, the mighty Stinger Apini! You were on our priority list. I’m Li Polistes, Drone Prime.” Turning to Stinger’s companion, “ And I don’t know your name yet young man…yet you two seem to be at peace. Good.”

 

“Jack Vespini.” the young drone answers crisply.

 

“I must apologize about the nasty business that brought you to us. But with the erasure of your last contract, you are freed from bondage. It is our gift. Welcome to the newest section of The Hive, an insectoid splice commune for the benefit of our kind.”

 

“If it’s for the benefit of our kind, why bring us here against our will and take our memories?” Stinger doesn’t bother with pleasantries.

 

Li waves his hand as if he hates repeating things, but remains calm, “As I explained, it is our gift. The Hive will protect you from contractual obligations, and I’ll add for clarity - splicer’s fees. A colony is what every insectoid splice should have been a part of. All you need will be provided and your place in The Hive is yours to choose. Though, we have suggestions for you Mr. Apini. And Mr. Vespini you’ll be evaluated for your talents.”

 

“You couldn’t have asked first?” Jack accuses, hackles raised. “I might have willingly come along, but you steal our memories so we only appear to have a choice. I’ve seen too much oppression to stand for this.”

 

While Li’s attention is on Jack, Stinger discreetly shakes his head. Jack is drawing too much attention. 

 

“You do not welcome our gift of freedom?” Li asks with concern.

 

“Let’s just say I’m skeptical,” Jack opts not wanting to push too far after Stinger’s cue.

 

“Then, let me introduce you to the others. As you hear their stories and share your own, you’ll see.” Li puts an arm around Jack’s shoulder and guides the two drones around the room. Each of the splices in the dorm area had been used or abused in some way. Almost all seem glad to be ‘free’. They don’t remember the current contract they held, but they remember past ones and that’s enough to convince them they would have wanted out.

 

##  MID PORTAL TO THEIR DESTINATION

Jack has been watching out the window the whole trip. When Stinger joins him at the viewing platform in the massive bunk room, Jack confesses to hardly ever traveling and when he did he’d not been able to look out. His captivity under his former queens had been a very controlled one. If he has the choice, he’ll ask to serve by Stinger’s side - since he trusts Stinger and the older splice has seen more of the ‘verse.

 

Approaching a large mass during portal is an unusual sight, even for Stinger. Seeing the older splice strain to try to figure out what the upcoming object is, Jack’s curiosity grows about the gargantuan construction.

 

“A dyson sphere as best I can guess. But how’d they suspend it in a portal? No wonder they stay hidden.” Stinger wonders and goes on to explain to Jack that a dyson sphere is a mega structure around a star that utilizes most if not all it’s energy.  His remark brings more curious onlookers to see the anomaly. Stinger notes most of them are female workers.

 

“So even the experienced Mr. Apini hasn’t seen a suspended dyson sphere before?” Li pops up behind them. The shake of his head makes Li smile.  “Welcome to The Hive, Gentlemen.”

 

“A self supporting colony?” Stinger probes cooly, as much out of personal interest as for the mission. 

 

“More than that. With every colonist working at high efficiency because they choose their work, the facility was renovated into the hive in just a few decades. We sell our surplus to related colonies.”

 

Stinger’s lips purse in a considering look. “A large operation then. Must’ve spliced quite a few workers. How’d ye obtain the facility?”

 

“The Hive’s first conquest. See, The Hive is our living space and our collective - a location and a group entity. The fortress will be a haven to every insect splice,” Li proudly explains.

 

“First?” Jack verbalizes his clue in on that word and Stinger’s eyes go to him then Li. Both new drones want to know the answer to that leading question.

 

“Yes, young Mr. Vespini. Your mind is quick. This will give you more opportunities in The Hive. But I digress.” Li waves an apologetic gesture. “It was the first concentrated attack on entitled holdings. Since it was an illegal prototype, no record was made of its liberation from those who would use it for much less scrupulous endeavors.”

“So what’s The Hive’s mission? There must be a direction,” Stinger quickly steps in to redirect Jack’s next push. Questions should be inquisitive, not accusatory.

 

Shrewdly Li volleys, “You deflect for the less experienced drone again. How well do you know him and what is he to you Mr. Apini? Answer that and I’ll tell you more.”

 

“I may have known him, since we both woke up in the same cell. Kinda took him under me wing. A camaraderie grows when you’re both in the same predicament.” Stinger stuffs his hands in his pocket to emphasize his lack of an answer.

 

“A simplified answer is what you earned. The Hive’s mission is to take down the powers that would enslave our people. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for entry into the facility,” Li gives a mere bob of his head.

 

##  THE HIVE

A slight shift in the pull from portalling to normal gravity is detected and Stinger makes note of it. “Must be entering the complex.”

 

“Have you considered what they do to those who say no to this life?” Jack asks, feeling a sense of dread wash over him now that they’ve entered the vast secured sphere.

 

“Don’t think it’d be pretty,” Stinger cocks his head to one side, trying to guess where Jack is going with the question.

 

“Yeah. I’m anxious to see how the splices here live. While I’m not fond of kidnapping, could it be the paradise that Mr. Polistes says it is?” Jack shuffles his feet as he speaks.

 

“Nothing’s ever as it’s sold to be, especially when there’s an interest in the choice.” Stinger shrugs and jerks a thumb in the door’s direction where splices are starting to file out of the common room.

 

The group is led into a sunlit open urban area on the inside of the sphere. The curvature of the facility is minute since it spans such an astronomically large distance. But it’s still unsettling to see the curvature backwards to what’s normal. Instead of not being able to see beyond the city, they can clearly see the wild forests beyond. 

 

Looking up is dizzying and Stinger has to steady Jack several times because the young drone’s eyes are drawn straight up to the towering spires that look like they should topple over from all the lacy bits that jut out from them. Li points to them - their destination - meeting The Hive’s Queen. 

 

While they wait, they’re shown around and given the lowdown on how life works here in the hive. All seems peaceful, with each splice doing their fair share of the work in a communal type situation. 

 

Instead of the group going to the palace, the palace moves to them. Stinger gives a low whistle at the amount of power it must take to move the gargantuan floating structure. The lacy bits, Stinger points out to Jack must be tunnels, like in a beehive or ant colony. Rainbow glints shine off the glassy structure. As it approaches, they can see inside - beings moving about with almost a rhythm in apparent harmony. 

 

It takes about 80 ticks for it to arrive and emanate a grav beam large enough for the whole group to be drawn up into it. Jack looks at Stinger when they realize it’s a directed beam transporting them not just level to level, but to wherever the queen’s presence is. But Stinger puts his hands out in a ‘damned if I know’ gesture.

 

Ending at a tall glass archway that opens to an ornately carved crystalline throne room. The group moves forward en masse. Then Li gives the signal to halt and the splices are led up to the throne one at a time. Stinger takes measure of this queen - elegant as expected, long chestnut hair cascading down in curls, a tan complexion, and graceful controlled movements. She must hope that the newcomers will be awed at what they see and the life she offers, so they will pledge to be part of the hive. And several ahead of the two drones evidently do. When it’s their turn, Stinger is brought up first.

 

“Stinger Apini, Legendary head of the elite Legion Prime Skyjackers meet Lady Constance Vespula our Queen*,” Li announces, ushering him up and they hear murmurs around them. Stinger self consciously rubs the back of his neck before stepping up to the platform. It’s been decades since he’s been viewed with such respect.

 

He kneels formally, but silently dares to meet her gaze.

 

“Stinger Apini, we’ve awaited you. The hope of a leader to unite our forces rests on you. Will you join The Hive?”

 

“M’lady with all due respect, I make decisions with slow and deliberate consideration. My years have taught me that. You won’t want a man who jumps in rashly to such things, anyway. If I understand correctly, I’d be expected to leave my old life behind and all I do would be for The Hive.”

 

“Correct, Mr. Apini. So you’re not as hot headed as you were half a century ago?”

 

Stinger’s chin dips shyly at the reference to his wilder younger self. “Aye, M’lady. Hopefully it’s wisdom my years have given me.”

 

After he’s dismissed and he trots back down the stairs, as his Skyjacker boots clang noisily - he see’s Jack deathly pale and wide eyed. He holds a hand up to Li to ward off Jack’s announcement.  “What’s wrong, Lad? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“I have,” Jack croaks as he stares up at The Hive’s queen. 

 

Li involves himself now, “What is wrong Mr. Vespini? Are you ill?”

 

“Sh...she is m...my maker,” Jack stutters. “I was told she was d...dead.”

 

“Not possible...the only drone she spliced was killed before her eyes,” Li contradicts. “That drone’s death was the reason she founded this hidden colony.”

 

Jack’s fist clench and he stands a little taller. “I survived. Ask your queen to ID me.”

 

Stinger’s brow lifts in his trademark ‘are you sure?’ expression, but Jack seems determined.

 

“Li, what is going on down there?” Lady Vespula demands.

 

Turning to Li, Jack asks if he can be the one to answer. He gets the affirmative and approaches the throne as Li announces him. “Jack Vespini, who wishes to be gene identified by M’lady.”

 

“Indeed,” Lady Constance gives a tight doubtful smile, until she can see Jack clearly in front of her as he kneels with the deepest reverence. She requests, “Lift your head, Mr. Vespini.” Sucking in a breath, she reaches her hand out, withdraws it, then shakily puts her hand to Jack’s face. “How can this be?”

 

“Mistress, I do not know. But I am here.” He leans into her touch.

 

Li puts a considering hand up to his mouth and Stinger clasps his hands behind his back as they watch the event unfold.

 

Lady Constance never deviates from her regal formal distance from the populace. But the Queen actually scoots out of her throne and kneels in front of her once lost drone and pulls his head to her shoulder, embracing him like a child - which draws a collective gasp from the onlookers. 

 

Words gum up in her throat as she chokes out, “Giacobo Vespini, I swore no insectoid splice  would ever have to suffer what I saw you go through. Never did I dream the efforts would bring you back to me.”  

 

As Jack shakily returns the embrace, Li dismisses the rest of the court, “Let us give the Queen and her drone their privacy.”

 

— 

 

Li takes the opportunity to show Stinger The Hive’s army with its hangar of Zeros and the battleship being built for the next attack. From the catwalk vantage point, the military encampment extends as far as the eye can see.

 

“Mr. Apini, you can see that your talents are needed here in the Hive. You’re the most experienced insectoid splice soldier. With your guidance we could minimize the casualties - on both sides,” Li tempts.

 

Gaze fixed on the war machine being constructed, Stinger’s hands clasp behind his back in thought. The lull extends long enough to make Li fidget, though to his credit he doesn’t prod.

 

“It’s impressive, Mr. Li. But you know this war will come at a terrible cost,” Stinger finally breaks the silence.

 

“That’s why we need you,” Li insists.

 

“My splicer offered me the same thing over 3 decades ago. Did you know that?” Stinger counters.

 

“I see. She is like minded with us. But, why didn’t you take her up on it?” 

 

“Same reason I’m turning you down right now. The toll on both sides will be tremendous. It’s possible to achieve the same ultimate goal with peace.”

 

“But you’re a soldier, surely you see…”

 

“See what? That it’s worth the price, instead of being patient? Her Grace Chouli Risa is a powerful royal that I trust. She’s working toward a peaceful resolution for all splices. I stand behind her.”

 

Adamant now, Li’s voice rises, “How many splices have to die at the hands of their masters? How many of us have to be abused and used? How much more do we have to suffer before you see that it won’t change with peace?”

 

“That’s not it! I can’t see throwing lives at a war that will only perpetuate this status quo. Either they will win and nothing changes or our kind will take up the dreadful oppression in revenge.” Stinger retorts. “Can you tell me that in your zeal you don’t want revenge? Do you know where that leads? As a former commander, I’ve seen it. It’s never  _ even _ . ‘An eye for an eye, was all that filled their minds. And another eye for another eye till everyone is blind.’**”

 

“We just want freedom from those who would oppress our kind!” Li shouts.

 

With his jaw set, Stinger volleys, “And you have it. Be a haven - I have connections that could recognize The Hive officially. Are you willing to toss that possibility aside by kidnapping and forcing a damned bloody war?”

 

“You fool! Can’t you see, with peace we’ll never be free!”

 

“I was free... until you kidnapped me. How many others’ memories will you steal and brainwash so you can throw them into never ending bloodshed?” Stinger growls. Seeing Li grit his teeth, he storms out knowing this conversation is going no where.

 

It leaves Li fuming and calling after him, “You were a wash up on that pathetic planet after your court martial! We’re giving you a chance to redeem yourself!”

 

Stinger mutters under his breath (his accent as thick as ever), “Git yer head outta yer ass...”

 

— 

 

Laying in bed stewing over what happened in the hangar Stinger wishes he had some of Jinko’s mead, when there’s a knock at the door of his new quarters. The room presence announces that it’s Jack. Unsure of why he feels the need to do so, he quickly pulls on his shirt and hollers, “Come in.” As Jack enters, it dawns on him. Mika’s the reason. Jack still feels a bit like competition and Stinger doesn’t want the young wasp splice comparing himself to one of Mika’s former lovers. 

 

Shaking it off, he looks up to see serious distress on the wasp drone’s face. Jack’s sweating profusely, his eyes are wild, and his frame is so tense he might snap. “I’m compromised. We don’t have long!” Jack pants out of breath.

 

Stinger grabs his boots with one hand. Not bothering to put them on, he bolts out the door motioning for Jack to follow as they hear heavy footsteps heading their way. Though the sound is more of a brisk march than a running tail, so they haven’t been discovered. Opening the flaps on the back of his shirt, he lets his wings unfurl. It doesn’t hurt to be ready for anything

 

Thankfully their quarters aren’t far from the hangar. Soundlessly Stinger flies over and surprises the guard with a fist out of nowhere. He deftly takes out the unsuspecting sentinel and relieves her of her rifle and shield. Handing it to Jack, he quickly slips into his boots. 

 

“Is she dead?” Jack whispers, horrified at the thought.

 

“Nah. Just’ll have one hell of a headache when she wakes up. Help me stash her out of the way. Security is rather lax. Won’t be that way for long...”

 

“They only expect splices to say ‘no’ one at a time. If you say yes, you’re made part of The Hive’s mind. I just saw some poor schmuck sentenced to be tossed into the star. Space is bad enough, but to be burnt alive...gods!” Jack bemoans.

 

“Also the security of being inside a portal field is making them less guarded. Weren’t you with the queen?” Stinger tries to fit this info into what he saw last of Jack, then thinks better of it. “Tell me when we’re outta here. We’ll have to fit into the hustle and bustle in the hangar. 

 

Getting inside is the least of their worries. Sneaking around is slow - scurry to behind machines, then stop - look - wait. By the time they reach the Zeroes, security is on their tail.

 

Stinger has Jack cover them with the shield, while they duck and scramble to the control panel to open the hatch for the closest mech pilot pod.  Plasma blasts slam into the shield as Stinger pounds at the interface. Swearing as he wracks his brain for all the standard override codes, he keeps trying each one he can remember for older and older operating systems - hope fading with each attempt. Finally he tries the obvious ‘Hive’. Damned if that isn’t it, because the pod hatch opens.

 

With Stinger firing over Jack’s shoulder and shield as they run, the duo books it to dive into their only hope for escape. A howl of pain comes from the younger splice and Stinger slams the drop button which closes the hatch and sends them in a stomach lurching descent to the body of the mech in the level below. Upon attachment, the Zero hums to life and they see other pods attaching to Zeros around them.

 

“Here we go!” Stinger calls to Jack, to help try to distract him from the wound in his calf, as they’re thrust out of the bay and into the barely stable portal field. The heightening of senses and extra adrenaline rush as he’s about to engage in battle settle him into the hyper-focus he’d missed about being a Skyjacker. He finds the familiarity of it oddly comforting as he compacts the mech into a more defensive posture — tucking in the wings, moving the thrusters to push the duo away from the sphere, and putting maximum shields to the front. Twisting the holographic gyro controls in his experienced hands is so natural and the craft rotates precisely to face the oncoming attack before they even get their orientation. “Got your grav harness on, back there?”

 

A disgruntled buzz and mumbling about motion sickness emanates from behind him. Stinger gives a dark chuckle before voicing the irony, “You’re a wasp splice for cripes sake. Flying is in your genes. If your head starts to spin, remember the dyson sphere is ‘down’.”

 

Switching on the comm he hails all frequencies, hoping against all hope that the signal is strong enough to go through the portal field as the other Zeroes pursue them. “Mayday! Mayday! This is Captain Stinger Apini. We are under attack as we escape the Hive in a stabilized portal where my tracking chip would have last shown me and my comrade. We are in an enemy Zero and badly out numbered. I repeat under attack in an enemy Zero. My comrade is injured. We need an out ASAP!”

 

As if directed by one mind, the assailing fighters are instantly in three formations — one circle behind them and two squadrons swinging off to the sides to head them off.

 

“Beeswax. This is gonna be ugly,” Stinger mutters about the enemy’s coordination and the incoming stream of plasma fire from behind him. His heads up display with rear view is lit up like an obnoxiously flashing Christmas tree. “Hang on!” he growls and rolls the craft to face the coming onslaught. 

 

Zigging and zagging, rolling, diving, spiraling and climbing in severely outnumbered dog fights, Stinger does his darnedest to avoid the blasts and not be herded into the kill ring behind them. As quick as Stinger’s reflexes are with the craft and it’s six plasma cannons, the enemy has the same genetic enhancement. The only advantage he has is his experience — giving him the ability to predict their movements often enough to start making a dent in their numbers. But this benefit will only last so long before they catch on to his tactics. 

 

Poor Jack is turning very green. He tries so very hard to focus on the massive structure below them. When a second fermion controlled directional fin is taken out and the kill ring is approaching at an alarming rate, Stinger grunts a command, “Make another distress call!”

 

Jack forces himself to focus on the message and painstakingly breathes every word, just as Stinger had done.

 

Stinger and Jack see a barrage of plasma blasts approaching. They’re about to be overtaken by the kill ring. Then everything goes white and their shield goes down - overpowered by an energy wave and a large number of hits.

 

—

 

Moments before on the bridge of the Aegis Cruiser Sigma 089, Tsing directs Mr. Percadium to portal to the source of Jack’s transmission. Mr. Percadium looks at her dubiously about to raise an official advisory against the action, gets an eyefull of ‘the look’ from his captain and proceeds to try the impossible - portalling into a moving but, stabilized gravity well filled with unknown numbers of moving objects - and this needs to be done with hair splitting precision. 

 

Instantaneously he calculates the doppler effect from the location and time from the message header with the signal strength increase as the Zero moves toward the opening. From this he’s able to get a gist of where Stinger and Jack are trapped and makes adjustments for the movement of both the ship in the middle of portal and the moving wormhole in space. Too damn bad for any other ships in the area. It’s still just a tad more tricky than say jumping from train car to train car while the cars are on two different tracks that constantly vary in direction and speed and you can’t actually see the other train car. No sweat. All in a day’s work for this Aegis crew.

 

Percadium reminds himself to put in for some vacation. He’s gonna need it after this. Utilizing a direct neural link with Mr. Nesh and the ship, the two of them guide the heavy cruiser into the manmade wormhole that balances a giant dyson sphere inside.

 

— 

 

Jack’s eyes recover first. Blinking past the huge spot on his retinas, the wasp splice recognizes the shape in front of them. He’s never liked spaceships much before because they’d almost always meant bad things. This time, it’s a beautiful sight to behold. For a short moment, he forgets just how woozy he really is.

 

Then Stinger’s swearing into the comm brings him back to reality, “Damn it Mika, we’re sitting ducks on the edge of your fucking warp field!”

 

“Nice to hear your voice too, Sting. Prepare for tractor beam. How’s Jack holding up?” Tsing greets them.

 

Silence. 

 

“Mika, I think he’s the first wasp splice to ever be motion sick. He’s just trying to keep his mouth shut right now,” Stinger verbally prods the pathetically pale splice behind him then waves to the Aegis friendlies flying by to defend the stranded duo. He gets a belated kick to his chair for the teasing as the fermion tractor beam starts to pull them into the cruiser’s bay.

  
  


Aegis Zeroes surround them, providing a shield for the vulnerable craft. Bridget waves as she flies by and takes her place in the formation. The shield wall is taking a pounding. One of the Zeroes is hit bad enough it has to join Stinger’s craft in the tractor beam. Another quickly takes its place. 

 

More Aegis cruisers arrive to cover for Mika’s ship and the battle really heats up. As Stinger and Jack’s Zero finally enters the bay, Mika gives the order to focus on the attack and denies Stinger’s request to join in, “ I know you’d be a help out there Sting, but we need to talk.”

 

##  ABOARD THE AEGIS CRUISER SIGMA 089

 

Looking up as the door slides open, he’s relieved to see Tsing. But she looks concerned. It shouldn’t be a big deal over a narrow escape, right?

 

“How you feelin’, Old Man?”  She smoothes down her unwrinkled jacket as she leans against the exam table he was just lying on.

 

“Alright.”  Shrugging but not taking his eyes off her, he adds,  “Ye’re most beautiful when you let down your guard, ye know.”

 

“Still as smooth as ever.” She grins and shakes her head.  “But you know darn well you can’t have both Bridget and I. And my eye is on Jack. Yeah, I said I was done with drone drama a century ago — but I want to help him, Sting. I really do. His previous queen did a number on him. But I think I’ve gained his trust.”

 

“All I have is an image and a message from this Bridget,” His head tilts and he sucks in his bottom lip, a little afraid of what Tsing will say.

 

Her head goes to her chest and she closes her eyes.  “Sting, in your own words, ‘She’s the best damned lover in a century’. You’re good for each other. But that’s not all…” Taking a breath and putting a hand on his shoulder she continues,  “She was carrying your child. But when you were in the tractor beam, it was her Zero that took the hit.”

 

Trying to piece this all together, he lets his thoughts loose outside his own head. It’s safe here with Mika, but his temper rises anyway.  “My child. Not possible! That would mean...”   He’s speechless for a moment as he tries to calm down. Tsing doesn’t deserve to be yelled at for bringing him news, so he kicks the table hard with the heel of his boot and mumbles some choice words. 

 

“She’s the  _ one, _ Old Man.” Putting her arm around his shoulder she squeezes.  “Hang in there. We have the Hive’s location now. And Bridget’s gonna be ok.”

 

When he’s gathered himself he asks hesitantly,  “And the bairn?”

 

“I’m sorry Sting…”  She puts both arms around her closest friend now as he sits there in a daze for a few moments, absorbing the news.

 

Returning to his senses, he hugs her back and lets go so he can get down from the exam table. He’s got his ‘queen’ to visit.  “How far along was she?”

 

“Doctor said she was early enough in the pregnancy that she might not have known.”

 

“I would have…A drone keeps track of the Aeris Sacrament and senses any change in his queen,” Stinger laments.

 

“I’ll get Doc, then I’ll take you to her. In the meantime…” Tsing pulls out a sheave with an image.  “You might want a gander at the picture she sent me of you two lovebirds.”

 

Accepting it, he takes in the smiling youthful lady with her chin on his shoulder and arms wrapped around him. It looks like they’re at Jinko’s. He reaches a hand out to touch the picture of the attractive face with sparkling blue eyes, short blonde hair, high cheekbones, and full red lips.

 

As Tsing heads out to retrieve the doctor, she adds,  “Brid’s enough to get you out of your multi-decade slump and looking toward the future. One of my dear friends now, and together we thoroughly enjoy giving you a ton of shit, Old Man.”

 

Glancing up, he clarifies,  “Brid, is that what I call her? Doesn’t sound right.” 

 

“Trouble’s your nickname for her.” Tsing sees his lopsided smirk before finishing her thought,  “Otherwise I’ve heard you call her by her full first name - Bridget. Check your messages stored in the ship’s bank to see what other clues you can dig up before we get you back to Orus for a memory restore. See you in a few.”

 

He lets out a breath and sticks a hand back in his pocket to help quell the insane mix of feelings. On one side he appears to be one lucky bastard — with an incredible woman in his life that he was willing to give all of himself to. On the other, he’s the most unlucky bugger in the ‘verse — he’s lost memories of this woman who’d stole his heart and she’ll be grieving over her lost pregnancy. Just seeing her picture makes his pulse race. And she must be quite the spirited tease to keep up with Tsing and be the one he’d share the sacrament of his seed with. How is she gonna take the memory erasure and loss of a child? Will she walk away, freeing herself of the burden of an inhuman splice lover?

 

He’ll be damned before he lets that happen. He’s just gotta keep things together until Orus.

 

— 

 

Striding purposefully into her room, he does a double take at her then at  _ his  _ things in the same room. Well, he should have expected to see his jacket and to-go bag here. Shaking it off, he goes down on one knee and bows his head before her as is expected before one’s ‘queen’. 

 

“Stinger…”  she trails off, unsure of what to make of his behavior.

 

Upon acknowledgement, he rises and holds out a hand palm open.  “Bridget, my queen, I’m glad to see ye awake and looking well.”

 

Warily she places her palm on his in the greeting ritual,  “After that close call, it should be me saying I’m glad to see you up and about. How are you doing, by the way?”

 

Despite her reaction, he persists and continues the greeting with the other hand, then placing his lips on her knuckles gently lingering before replying,  “Well enough. You?”

 

Her brow furrows, but she skims her fingers over the ever present stubble on his cheek.  “Ok, but puzzled. What’s with the sudden formality? Am I missing something? After we met with Marcelline, you made it clear a formal relationship wasn’t what you wanted. Has that changed? Because I know so little about what’s required. And we’ve always been equals. ”

 

Sighing - a little from relief, a little from being unsure, he runs a finger over the little gold bee pendant and queries,  “Do ye understand what the greeting represents?”

 

“Um… The kiss shows your devotion, do I remember right?” she ventures.

 

“Aye.”

 

“I’m still missing something,”  she shares her suspicion.

 

Licking his lips and internally cursing, he dreads having to be the one.  “They didn’t tell ye?”

 

“Tell me what? I just came to, evidently after surgery or something by all the people who were in the room a few moments ago. I know I took a direct hit. Wait a minute…” She fidgets with the necklace as the thought bothers her, “ Tell me, the memory restoration didn’t fail...did it?”

 

His eyes dart to his boots reflexively before his gaze returns to hers, “ That’s not it. But it’s a bugger of a deal and I have to be the one to break it to you, when all I have is two images and a note from you.”

 

“Damn it,”   s he mutters despondently. Turning her focus back to him, she bemoans ,  “We can’t catch a break, can we? … So what is it?”

 

Sitting next to her, he encloses her in his arms and automatically tucks her head in the crook of his neck, “Ye were carrying my child.”

 

Color draining from her face, she leans back and protests,   “I can’t be. I’m on birth control — but the antibiotics... and I was late. But my period is so irregular, I thought... Oh my.”

 

“You were expecting,”  he insists.

 

“Were?” her eyebrow raises as she prompts for more explanation.

 

It hurts her to see the sadness in his eyes as he shares in a flat voice, “Aye. A drone knows his queen and your hormones are fading. The hit you took for me - had I been able to stop ye…”

 

Even the mere thought of losing him again sends her into a panic, especially now that she’s so emotional. Putting her trembling fingers to his mouth to stop his train of thought she pleads as her tears start,  “Don’t go there. They were attacking you two, and I chose to join those protecting your lone Zero. I need you so very much. I can’t even…”

 

Enfolding her again, she clings to him as he murmurs,  “We won’t go there either. I’m here.” He holds her and lets her weep to grieve over their loss and simultaneously express the relief of him being safe and alive.

 

After a good long cry, a thought occurs to her and she pulls back with pursed lips before sharing.  “So, you haven’t had the restoration. Yet, last time you were blanked, you were super wary of me. What’s different?”

 

“Well…” He places his rough hand on the back of her neck and puts his forehead to hers.  “Your pregnancy was evidence that we hadn’t just been lovers, but that I’d given myself completely to you. I’d never thought there would be anyone I’d share that with.”

 

Her look is utter confusion as she pulls back to see his expression, “ Yes, we did - but telling you we did last time you lost your memory just shocked you.”

 

“Woman, are you gonna keep comparing everything to what happened in this supposed last time that I have no memory of? Can ye not accept I’m yours?”

 

“It was very traumatic for me, so I’m extremely leery,” she confesses.  “I really thought I was gonna lose you.”

 

Putting a finger to her lips to quiet her he tucks her head back into his shoulder. He wants to get back to the Peace of Mind facility to get his memories restored before they hash over this any more. “ Shush now Love. It’ll be alright.” Soothingly he runs a hand up and down her spine and whispers tender comfort while she clutches him, her fingers entwined in his short cropped hair. It catches him by surprise just how easily he’s slipped into an intimacy with her, despite a lack of remembrance. Nuzzling into her cheek, he takes in her scent and the feel of her against him and commits it to memory again.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Bridget requests. 

 

Sharing what he knows, he finishes with,  “I still dunno how Jack was compromised. ”

  
  


##  TSING’S CONFERENCE ROOM 1400 HOURS

Before the last stragglers arrive, Stinger relaxes in the chair next to Bridget as her fingers intertwine with his. He ponders the fact that she’s not let go of him since he entered her room four hours ago. She didn’t even let him shower by himself — a little disconcerting at first, but not unpleasant. In fact he wouldn’t mind repeating the experience — he could get used to that. But he’ll have to ask if her clinginess is a temporary thing. He’ll need some personal space later, too.

 

Bridget tilts her head over at Jack and Tsing next to them. He allows a faint grin at the awe the young wasp splice looks at his friend with and how close he sits. Who would have thought the guy would warm up to anyone so quickly? He’s been through so much. But then so has she. Unable to resist a bit of teasing, he neural net messages Jack, ‘What are your intentions with the good Captain Tsing? I won’t let just anyone pursue my oldest friend.”’

 

Posture going rigid, Jack places his hands on the table in sight and slowly turns to Stinger with a question on his face. Tsing sees the expression and gives Stinger a swift kick under the table.

 

Rubbing his shin, he feigns innocence, “What?”

 

“You will refrain from intimidating Mr. Vespini. No more drone drama from you. Understood?”

 

“I was just asking his intentions …” Stinger starts but trails off at her ten ton glare. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he dares one last volley directed at Jack, “She’s a damned fine woman. Be good to her.” He winks with his last statement, “She’s capable of whallopping both of us. Just not at the same time.”

 

“Sting, shut your bloody mouth before I kick you out of the meeting.”

 

Rubbing a hand over his mouth to cover his cheekiness he mumbles, “Understood, Captain.”

 

A buzz from a neural net message, and Stinger discreetly puts his hand to his neck, feigning a stretch and yawn. 

 

‘Mind your own damn beeswax, buzz boy.’ Jack purses his lips to keep from grinning but he too gets a kick from under the table as Mika detects the silent retort. 

 

The last attendee sits and Mika is about to signal the start of the meeting, but Stinger bursts out with mock indignation, “Buzz boy? Is that all you can come up with when you haven’t even earned your stripes with her?” 

 

Rolling her eyes, Mika contacts the bridge, “Mr. Percadium - turn off neural net messaging for the duration of this meeting. Our two drones can’t act their ages.” Directing her scolding to the duo she laments, “I don’t know what’s worse. You two not getting along, or you two being friends,” Tsing sighs and waves them off to gather her thoughts.

 

When the meeting finally gets underway, Jack reveals what gave him away and sent the duo on the run at the Hive. “Well,  Mistress Vespula and I couldn’t see eye to eye about the rebellion she wishes to stage and she tried to force me to be her drone, despite knowing everything I’ve been through.  She says she wants to free splices, but really she just wants revenge. Said she’ll start harvesting the entitleds. I have no love for them, but I was still shocked. It’s not the way I remembered her at all. When I refused, guards tackled me and scanned my deep memory and found the chip. I learned most of the workers are forced into a hive mind. But she said ‘I have given them a home, a calling. Being in the hive mind, they’ll never be alone.’ When they were leading me away, I took my chance to fight my way out and you know the rest.”

 

Tsing shares the fate of the colony. Unfortunately the queen and her drone prime were shot down, because they wouldn’t allow themselves to be taken alive. Seeing Jack’s shoulders slump at the news, Tsing continues, “But the rest of the splice haven has surrendered and Aegis is negotiating with them to have the dyson sphere as a haven and under our protection. It’ll take a good century in court, but the residents can stay and continue the peaceful dream they thought they’d started.”

 

##  PRIVATE DOCK ON THE HMS ALLEY OOP

Despite the memory restoration last week, he’s still got a month’s hole in his memories from the first wipe. Last night Stinger reviewed the ship schematic and crew roster one last time. Going through the messages from crew had also been helpful to get a feel for each of his crew members’ personalities. 

 

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he scuffs the floor with his boot while Bridget gives him the once over.

 

“Nervous about meeting your crew?” Bridget asks.

 

“It’ll be like getting to know you all over again. They’ll all know me and I barely know shit about any of them except me first officer,” he complains.

 

“But the advantage is they aren’t a new crew and will work efficiently, knowing what you expect,” Bridget tries to show him the silver lining to the situation. “Look for things like that.”

 

He shoves his mouth to one side in consideration. “Perhaps.”

 

“Tsing helped you hand pick them too - did you know that?” With one last tug to his collar, she smiles at her lover - so dapper in his black Captain’s uniform. He’s even wearing a hat. She’s never seen him with one before. While he can pull off the rough and tumble old Aegis officer bit very well, seeing him in a better situation makes her happy. And despite his current reservations about returning, this job has done wonders for his attitude.

 

“No.” Letting her know he appreciates her being here and her words of comfort he extracts his hands from his pockets, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her for several ticks — not caring if the crew is watching. Halfway into the kiss, he hears the cameras moving and he peeks to see them turning away to give him and Bridget a smidge of privacy. Damn, they’re a good crew and he hasn’t even re-met them.

 

—

 

With arms linked Stinger and Bridget exit the grav lift to the bridge, the entire crew is assembled to greet them. A crisp announcement of “Captain on deck” and everyone salutes in almost perfect unison. Bridget is about to let go of Stinger’s arm and starts pulling back to let him have the stage, but he tightens his arm down to his side pinning her arm and pats her hand. He wants her to stay as she is. Clicking his heels to proper position, he returns the gesture smartly. 

 

“Welcome aboard, Sir!” First Officer Taisho offers his hand.

 

“It’s good to be back.” Stinger accepts and gives a hearty shake. “Let’s get under way. Her Majesty is awaiting us.”

 

The crowd scatters at the command and Bridget relishes seeing Stinger in his element. She’d only seen him outside of what he chose as a career. He seems to enjoy keeping a little apiary, but this — military command is what he was made for. Falling back into it is so natural for him. Guiding her down a corridor, she notices he walks with surety and even a little swagger. 

 

He verifies, “You sure you want to spend your time in the med bay?”

 

“You said the medical officer could use some help. It’ll be a good opportunity for me to learn more about what’s possible in the ‘verse and learn more about the technology that I didn’t grow up with. I’m only worried the doctor won’t want a tersie for help,” she shrugs just happy his confidence is back. “When he doesn’t need my assistance, I’ll check in with Kiza and Tsing to keep up with the Marshall position.”

 

“Will ye have time left for anyone else?” Stinger stops, catching her elbow.

 

Her eyebrow lifts as she turns and returns the question, “Think I’ll be too busy?”

 

Wrapping his hands around her waist, he volleys vaguely, “Better not be. But ye need a place here too.”

 

Pressing a finger to her own mouth then to his, she affirms, “I’m at your disposal my dear Captain. Wasn’t that the point of me accompanying you?”

 

He puckers his lips to her fingertip, and nods. “Dr. Cisse will be lucky to have yer help. But I may have need of ye too.”

 

“Well the captain, he’s a sweet guy - knowing two fools in love when he sees them and made our schedules match.”

 

“And you’re fond of this captain?”

 

“Quite.” She breathes into his ear, “Just say the word, Lover Boy,” before sashaying into the med bay.

 

Unable to take his eyes off her as she rounds the corner, he starts counting down the hours to their personal time.

  
  


##  STINGER AND BRIDGET’S QUARTERS ABOARD HIS SHIP

Curled up, face to face on the couch together, Stinger traces Bridget’s necklace - his finger lingering on the token of his affection. Thoughts that had been swirling in his head are starting to congeal - so he brings them up. “Bridget…”

 

Her hand covers his, so he keeps contact with her - directly over her heart. Lazily she responds, “Hmm?” So he concludes she must be at peace and not pondering the same things he is. Damn, it’s hard to bring this up.

 

“Well, Kiza will be married soon... Your son is off to college... And we just lost… Well, I don’t know if we’ve discussed this already. But, would you like to have another...?”

 

That makes her pulse jump and her entire body jolt with a start, so he moves his hand to caress her cheek.

 

“Err… This is how you’re dealing with empty nest syndrome?” she responds with half shock, half teasing.

 

He dodges, “I’m asking if that would make you happy.” 

 

“But we haven’t had much time together yet as a couple. What makes you bring it up? There’s gotta be something going on in your head.”

 

“It’s just… you were so sad over the loss. And until you came along, there wasn’t anyone I’d ever consider such an intimacy with. Marcelline tried to make it look like we’d been that close because I was her drone, but Kiza wasn’t from our union.”

 

She counters with, “I… I don’t know how I feel about it, yet. But how will you feel about having a child that would likely be about the same age as your first grandchild, if Kiza and Gage choose to have kids?”

 

Stunned, he blinks for a few moments then whispers a choked, “My little girl... a mum…”  

 

Running a hand through his hair and touching her forehead to his, Bridget silently offers comfort.

 

“We have much to consider…” he laments.

 

To lighten things up she teases,  “Well, my dear Old Codger, were you thinking you’d just carry me into the air here and now for a pleasure filled evening?”

 

With a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar expression, he tries to steer the conversation, “Well, I had some fermionic modifications made to our bed here and....”

 

She giggles and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “And a little practice couldn’t hurt?”

 

“Aye, Love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * She’s given a noble title, but not a queen’s. individuals may choose to call her “My Queen” or “M’Lady” depending on if they choose to let her be their queen. It’s a personal matter.
> 
> ** Part of the Chorus of There Were Roses written by Tommy Sands. I first heard it performed by the Crossing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laXEdgeiRuE


End file.
